stitches
by Emnity
Summary: I was left wanting so much more after the Mad hatter episode. I took Emma's tea party as a starting point. Now Emma is trapped with the mad hatter, after the loss of Alice and Graham maybe both are looking for someone.
1. Chapter 1

He watches the realization spreading across her face. She falls forward, bracing herself on the piano. He moves quickly, catching her before she can come to any harm. He lays her in the sofa as her eyelids flutter closed. Asleep, her face is much more gentle and open. Now he feels bad for deceiving her, but it was necessary. So he doesn't feel too bad. The ends, in this case, will justify the means. He feels restless, unsettled. There is another person, another person in his house. He paces. He stops.

He looks down at her, from just the right angle she looks a bit like Alice. Blond. She acts a bit like Alice too, she has that assertive calm that he always found so attractive. Not in her. No. Never. Never Ever Ever. He would, will, never find anyone attractive ever again, not after Alice. Jefferson sits, then thinking better of it, gets up. Perhaps this plan was a mistake. He doesn't like having another person, another woman here. It's unsettling. He has been alone for so long, even the sound of her breathing is deafening. The room suddenly feels too small and too large all at once.

Warm hands are jostling her awake. Emma can hear a voice, softly calling her.

"Graham?" she says, still half asleep. Were she in full possession on her mental faculties, that admission would be terribly embarrassing. As it is, her splitting headache is enough to keep her focused on the matter at hand.

"You have work to do, the sooner your done the sooner you can go"

She remembers where she is, and more importantly who she's with, well, who she thought she was with. Apparently Storybrook, as idilic as it looks, isn't exempt from real danger. God, how could she have been so stupid! She knows not to trust men, knows better than most. Emma scoots back across the couch, away from the mad man with his hat. For he is indeed holding a top hat, and beckoning. This would not be very threatening, but the other hand is holding her gun. Emma gets up, she's stiff, her head aches and her ankles and wrists are lightly bound. She wonders if she could disarm him. Maybe a quick assault, the element of surprise? No, she shakes her head, no that would be stupid. Slowly, arduously, she walks in front of him towards God knows what. For now, until she knows what's going on, it's a good idea to obey the psychopath with the gun.

The first thing she notices is that the house is eerily quite. And neat. Nothing is out of place. There are no photos, no personal effects. No phone. The fog is finally lifting in her head and Emma stops dead, rounding on the man.

"Where's Mary Margaret? " She looks around wildly as if her friend might be hiding behind the curtains.

He chuckles, a dry, disused noise. "You mean '_spot_'? I let her go. I need you focused, not distracted by whatever plight has befallen your friend. She'll make it back to Storybrook." His voice holds no malice, but the calmness with which he describes the kidnapping terrifies Emma.

Jefferson remembers, Alice was always eager to help any friend in need, a laudable trait. But not in Emma, in Alice. Only Alice.

The rest of the walk is silent. The house is large, and every footfall can be heard echoing along the disused hallways. Jefferson watched her face as she enters the hat room. He misses people's reactions. He loves seeing their awe. The hat room is indeed a sight. She reaches over and lifts a half finished to hat, carefully as if it were a wounded bird. She isn't as afraid, he thinks. He waits till she sets the hat down, turns towards him.

"Emma, I need your magic. You have to make it work" He tries to communicate how important it is, how much he needs her to do this.

She looks at him. He wonders if she didn't hear somehow. He tries again.

"The hat, I need it to work here, you have the magic I need, use it "

She looks blankly at him. Jefferson signs and tries to explain. He's not sure that he really understands it himself.

"This house, my knowledge, it's my cures. If I can make a new hat, a magic hat, I can go back through the rabbit hole, I can see my daughter" She looks at him, she is studying him. He suppresses the urge to shift on his feet or move away from her bright stare. He waits. He's good at waiting.

At his explanation Emma feels her hear constrict. Henry. She knows, for once, how this mad man must feel. Emma stares at him, if he is lying about this, well, she'd have no way to know. His face looks sincere, guilty even. Regardless, this may be her way out. If she can convince him she'll help, get him to leave her alone, then she can make her escapee.

"What do I need to do?" She asks. His eyes widen, and he advances on her. Emma wondered if she'd made the wrong decision.

"Make a hat, then, here"

He stopped advancing and picked up a hat, giving it an expert whirl. Nothing happened and his shoulders slump.

She picks up the scissors and begins to hack at the black velvet. Jefferson leaps forward, grabbing her wrist. He feels a jolt of electricity.

Emma grabbed the scissors, wondering which would be faster, cutting her wrists or his neck. He grabs her wrist, she feels a connection, she doesn't like it.

"I'll cut, you sew"

Emma looked nonplussed "I have to make it myself or else the magic fails"

He nods curly.

"fine, I'll make one, then you make your own."

He loves making hats, he can get lost. He's home again, working on his old butcher

block making hats, Alice perched by his when he looks, it's not Alice at all. He cant tell how much time has passed. The windows are dark and the hatter can see the moon glimmering in the picture frame corner. Did Alice look upon the same moon? He stood, his back ached And his fingers were cramped. Emma was slumped over. He hurried to her side, her stillness scared he touched her shoulder she jolted awake, horrified by his touch. For some inexplicable reason that hurt the hatter.

"there's a bedroom, over there" he said, his voice gruff.

Emma stood and almost fell. She felt a pair of arms steadying her, she could feel herself, against her will, melting into the embrace. Jefferson reached to catch her. She was light in his arms, so fragile, he pulled her unnecessarily close, steadying himself as much as her. He could feel her relaxing, she swayed, her head coming to rest on his chest. Jefferson jumped back as if scalded. Alice, his Alice, had put her head just there, told him that she would always love him, that nothing would ever change that. He had kissed the top of her head and told her she was the best thing that could have ever happened to him. He looked away, he could feel Emmas eyes searching, scrutinizing his features. "goodnight" it's a terse dismissal. She turns and leaves. The first door she try's is locked. The second is definitely the hatters room, bolts of cloth cover every surface, and the walls are covered in sketches, pinned with drawing pins. Although a natural snoop, this room, with it's technicolored collage of fabrics looks to mad, to personal. As she turned Emma saw a painting, done one what looked like a scroll of parchment. A beautiful girl is looking out into the canvas, she has blond wavy hair and is seated on a mushroom the size of a dinner table. Emma could feel the sadness emanating from the picture. She turned on her heel and continued to the next door. This one is worse. It's a little girls room. One wall of the room hold a collection of animals, all painstakingly hand made. On the bed lays a care worn bunny. The emotions hit her before shes ready. The loss, the grief the empty hole inside. She crumpled by the door frame. When she finally stood, Emma could see the stairs, and at the bottom, a door. She had to get out of this house. Away from her memories, away from the broken man and his sad broken hat.


	2. Chapter 2

"author" note. This is my first piece of shared work as well as my first piece of fanfic. I love a damaged, tragic hero. I would also love some reviews. I am here to learn, so what can I do better? More importantly, what would you like to happen next? I'm not sure where to go, and I don't want to rush Emma or Jefferson/Hatter/Tarrant, and thanks for reading!

Emma tried the door. It was locked. The lock was an ornate collection of twining threads, with the key hole as the eye of a needle. Emma crept back up the stairs. The thought of looking into the little girls room was to much. Judging by the layer of dust in Jefferson's room, he had long since vacated it for his work room. She went there.

Jefferson was in the high backed chair. He was asleep, she could see his hands twitching. He was mumbling. She crept closer. His head jerked. He was still wearing the scarf from yesterday. Emma leaned closer, looking for a key. His eye lashes seemed impossibly long. His hair was mussed, presumably from his erratic sleep. Involuntarily she reached out a hand to fix it. Emma stopped. What the hell was she doing.

Logically, one keeps ones keys in a convenient pocket. Emma slid her hand across Jefferson thigh, feeling for a key. She could feel the impression of something small, possibly key sized. Emma ran her hand lightly up his leg, looking for the entrance to the cleverly crafted pocket.

As her fingers strayed closer to his hip, Emma realized the rather compromising position she would be in. Suddenly a hand grabbed hers. Jefferson was still asleep but his hand was fixed around hers.

"Alice, oh god Alice, I missed you"

Emma swallowed, uncomfortable. Its an unusual predicament, to find ones hand in the grip of a mad milliner, pressed alarmingly high on his thigh.

Her predicament worsened as he tugged her off balance. His other arm stealthily reached behind her, pulling her closer. To stop herself from toppling into his lap she placed her free hand on his shoulder.

"Alice" he moaned

Emma pause, was she actually felling pity for this mad man?

His arm, entrapping her, rested lightly on her waist. His thumb traced invisible circles, interrupting her though process. His free hand, surprisingly dexterous for someone who was asleep, caressed her cheek. She was straddling him now. He had released her trapped hand when he had stroked her cheek, but her still had an arm around her waist, keeping her there.

"your real?" he murmured, still half asleep.

"hush, hush hatter"

She gently brushed his cheek, pulling her feet off the floor and swinging her legs over the arm of the chair so she fit in his lap like a small child. The restraining arm feel back, she was glad. It was impossible to think with him holding her like that.

"are you back? "

Emma couldn't bring herself to lie, she had these dreams too. Graham would be in her room, laughing. She would stand and pull him, towards the bed, pushing him back. She could hear his chuckle as he rolled on top of her. Then, he would be gone, she would be alone, again.

"hush" Emma said again. This calmed the hatter. She began to stroke his hair, murmuring into his shoulder. An eternity later she extricated herself from the desperate tangle of arms and moved away. She curled on the plush window seat, waiting.

Maybe tonight it would be Henry's father. He was rare, but sometimes he would come. More offend than not, it was Graham. Sometimes he died, sometimes he vanished, but he was always gone in the morning, along with a little of her sanity.

Jefferson woke very slowly. This dream, tonight's dream had been different. Normally he saw Alice, she would be racing through a field, always a little ahead of him. He could see her hair, flowing behind her, hear her tinkling laugh, but never see her face. Last night, she had seemed so real, she had run her hand up his leg, sat on his lap, whispered to him. He blushed.

He looked around the room. Curled on a the window seat was Emma. Lying on the crushed green velvet, she looked almost exactly like Alice. It was all he could do not to rush over and gather her into his arms. Instead he turned and walked to grace's room. The bunny was sitting on the bed as always. He retrieved it and sat. Grace would not be awake yet, he absently stroked the rabbit, he would check on her later. Now it was time for a spot of tea.


	3. Chapter 3

Emma woke with a stiff back, a stiff neck, and a decidedly uneasy feeling. She stood and stretched. The gleaming telescope caught her attention. Emma looked for the hatter, but he seemed to have vanished. She strode across the room. She paused to look at the hat sitting on the table. It was incredible that he could make something like this in a night. It transcended fashion, it was almost Ana art. Emma pressed her eye to the ocular. There was Grace. She was sitting on the floor, drinking pretend tea for a tiny china cup. She heard a creek behind her. The hatter was standing in the door, holding a cup. He gestured to the table, proffering a second cup.

"is this one drugged too?"

"no, it's just tea"

Emma tentatively took the cup. The tea was surprisingly good. It was a light chamomile, sweetened with honey.

"loose leaf?"

"the very best"

He smiled at her over the rim of the cup. He has a pocket watch dangling out if his waist coat pocket. She saw that he was starring out the window. She could picture him on the floor, drinking his own imaginary cup of tea, sticking his pinky out, propping up a stuffed animal.

"you plan this don't you?"

He looked wistful, "yes"

"henry, my son, and I used to plan secret meetings"

She resumed sipping her tea. Emma wanted to reach over and take his hand, or to tell him that he seemed like an amazing father. She didn't, instead she looked absently at the wall of hats. It was so poignantly sad. Each hat was a hope. That explained the odd look he sometimes got. Emma wasn't sure if he was all there, if he could be all there. That much time alone effects a person.

"here her name is page"

"who"

"grace, my daughter, her name is page here"

"oh"

Another awkward silence descended

"Henry believes in the other world, like you"

"he sounds like a smart boy"

Emma smiled, "he's fantastic"

She realized how insensitive it was to talk about her son. She stopped abruptly, deciding to take a sip of her tea. It was a long moment before she talked again.

"does she look like her mother?"

"a little, she has more of Alice's face"

The silence reclaimed the room.

"do you miss him?"

you mean henrys father?"

"yes"

"not as much, I still think of him, but now it's more fondly"

It was Jefferson's turn to be at a loss for words

His feelings for Alice had gotten so complicated. Guilt had mixed with love and loss. Maybe having to raise grace had affected his grieving, not that it was her fault. Grace was the perfect daughter. Oh god, things would be so different if he had just stayed. He had been happy, of a fashion, living in the woods with grace. Absentmindedly he rubbed the scar around he neck. It was a constant reminder of his failure. His failure to make a hat that could return him to his grace. He looked up to see Emma looking quizzically at him. He shook his head slightly.

"you should get back to work"

"pardon"

"the hat, as soon as your done, and you send me home, you can leave too"

Emma nodded. She wanted to see henry, and marymargrett . Still, she worried about Jefferson. She had no idea how long he had been in this house alone. She felt a connection, a similarity between them. Unwillingly, she cared now, she cared what happened to him. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if he felt the same.

Jefferson wondered what she was thinking about. She looked pensively off into the middle distance. She was different than what he'd expected. She was, more human. Even though it felt like a betrayal, he enjoyed her company. This new found experience of talking to her made him feel odd. Giddy, and awkward, both things he associated with being a gawky teenager. He attributed these strange feelings to his isolation. He had to.


	4. Chapter 4

"authors" note. Thank you to everyone who has read, or reviewed. I love you all, and those who reviewed a little more. I am very hesitant at continuing this awkward romance. I'm not sure where its going. I'd love to have your opinion, right now, I feel like Emma is getting more into it. Jefferson is going to take a while to come around. I know the chapters are getting shorter, I am having to work a little harder to see their actions. Unfortunately, Emma is getting more romantic action than her creator. Sorry for babbling, enjoy.

Jefferson took the empty tea cups to the kitchen. This, like most of the rooms in the mansion, was spartan. He put the twin tea cups into the sink and headed back up stairs. Looking in the hall mirror, he realized he had been wearing the same clothes for two days.

He checked on Emma in the work room before turning and going back to his own room. Jefferson began looking for something to wear, he couldn't remember the last time he had actually put thought into his attire. When had he acquired so much black clothing? Finally he found a shirt that wasn't too wrinkled. The hatter removed his scarf and began unbuttoning his current shirt. Jefferson removed the shirt and launched it at a pile of laundry. He picked up the new shirt, shaking it in a vein attempt to dispel the collection of creases. He pulled it on and scrutinized the buttons. At that precise moment Emma burst in. She paused. Then looked aghast at the ugly puckered scar around his neck. She lowered her eyes quickly.

"I just came to get another bolt of velvet"

She gestured to the mess of fabric.

"oh, sorry" he turned, hastily buttoning his shirt.

"come here"

"what?"

"For a hatter your not very dexterous"

She indicated his shirt which he has cross buttoned. One end now hung askew.

"oh" he fumbled, his fingers felt think and clumsy. Emma placed her hand on his chest.

"stop, let me fix it." She smiled. Emma slowly unbuttoned the shirt, still averting her eyes from his. Cautiously she did the row of buttons back up, properly this time. Her thumb brushed against the scar. He flinched. Emma looked up, locking his eyes with hers.

"I'll get back to work then"

"ok" he choked, he was unsettled. Emma turned and walked back to the work room. The hatter remained stationary in his room, trembling.

Emma was bent over the hat when Jefferson came back in. He walked around the table, avoiding her. Emma offered the finished hat to him. She hated to admit it, but she was proud of the hat.

"here"

"you have to do it, after all, you have the magic"

Emma tentatively spun the hat. Nothing happened. She tried again, more forcefully.

"here"

Jefferson stood behind her. He took her arms and mimicked the spinning motion. Emma tilted her head up.

"will you go back?"

"to the fairy tale?"

"no, to wonderland"

"I don't know, grace is the most important."

"is there someone else there?"

"what do you mean?"

Emma felt a warm blush settling across her cheeks.

"do you have someone special there?"

"no"

He paused, realizing how curt his answer had been

"there's been no one since Alice."

"no one?"

"not since grace was born"

And now it was Jefferson's turn to blush. He had never considered how long it had been. The curse changed his perception of time, so he couldn't be sure, but judging from grace, it had been about 10 years. He swallowed, that was a long time. Why had it never bothered him? Then again, he had been distracted, responsible for grace. Maybe he still was holding out for Alice. He wished that he never had kidnapped Emma, things had gotten so complicated since she arrived. He had, feelings, feeling that were confusing as hell.


	5. Chapter 5

Jefferson seemed glad when she asked if she could go take a shower. Emma assumed that it was hard for him to adjust to having a person living with him. She felt a bit bad for making him uncomfortable. Her last conversation with the hatter had left her thinking. She had more questions, but quite frankly, she was too tired and drained from the last days. The strange, sad, crazy hatter, his scar, the empty house, grace, it was a lot to take in. The hatter had told her she could use the bathroom adjoining the master bedroom. The bathroom was neat and very clean.

Emma glanced in the mirror, and shuddered. Her clothes were dirty and here hair was a mess. Finally she managed to work out the worst of the knots and leapt into the shower.

After, wrapped in a towel, She stood in the hatters room. The shower had relaxed her, she felt cleaner, her head clearer. He had told her there were clothes in the second drawer she could wear. Emma crossed to the ornate dresser. She took our the first article of clothing, a dress, maybe a slip, white and embroidered with all sorts of plants. The second thing was a dress, a blue off the shoulder dress. Finally there was a school girls dress. It would fit a ten year old. Emma held it up, and out fell out a folded square of paper. Emma stooped and picked up the note. The heavy paper was written in the unruly scrawl of a child. Emma couldn't contain her curiosity, she read it.

_Dear Tarrant,_

_I promise I will remember you. You are my favorite hatter, and I will come back to wonderland to see you and Cheshire. Please don't forget me,_

_ Love_

_ Alice_

Emma's vision went blurry, was she on the brink of tears? Admittedly the letter was touching, but she was going soft. Maybe they were right, Henry and the hatter. The scar combined with the letter left little shadow of a doubt. Either Wonderland was real, or the hatter was truly bonkers.

Emma looked for something else to wear. Apart from the hatters own clothes, the dress was the only option. Emma lifted it up. It was lovely, it had its own life, it's own body. Finally she relented, she undid the hooks and eyes and slid it on. The silk felt like water, or smoke. She tried to do it up, but couldn't quite reach.

"Jefferson" she stuck her head around the door frame.

She could hear him ascending the stairs, he was light footed, and surprisingly graceful. He paused at the landing. She couldn't see him, but she could hear the sharp intake of breath,

"what are you wearing?"

"the dress, it was in the wardrobe."

"take it off"

"what?" Emma turned to stare at him.

"take the dress off, now" his voice was a dangerous whisper. Emma fumbled, trying to remove the delicate dress. He stared dispassionately, not offering to help.

"get out"

Emma looked incredulous, "I'm naked"

"here" Jefferson crossed to his own cloths, throwing her a shirt and pants.

"go"

"where"

"just go" his voice cracked and Emma fled.

Seeing Emma in the dress, well it was more than he could handle at this juncture. He thought about going to talk to her, but what if she didn't want to talk to him? What if she had had enough. Finally he threw himself down on the bed. This dream, started differently. Jefferson, the hatta, was kneeling in front of the queen of hearts. She was interrogating him, although he couldn't hear her words. She gestured, and the guards brought forth Alice. But it wasn't Alice, it was Emma, wearing the Alice blue dress. The queen motioned to the axe man. Jefferson threw himself forward, trying to run to Emma. As the executioner raised the axe, the queen of hearts became Alice. Jefferson woke screaming. Emma as by his side in and instance, she held onto his hand.

"are you ok?"

Still unable to speak, he shook his head.

"do you need to talk about it? "

He nodded. Emma lay next to him, resting her head on his chest. She ran her hand along the scar.

"was it about this"

He nodded again. He took a deep shuddering breath, and started.

"after Alice, long after Alice, I was asked to do a job by the queen. I agreed so I took her into wonderland. She stole something that belonged to the queen of hearts. When we got back to the looking glass, I found out that that queen of hearts had stolen the evil queen's father. You see, the hat can only ever transport equal numbers of people. If two go in, two go out. The queen, Regina, brought back her father, she abandoned me there. The queen of hearts took her revenge"

He finished, ruefully, Touching the scar.


	6. Chapter 6

"author" note:

Here is, THE CHAPTER. This is my first chapter of "this kind" I would appreciate your review. The next chapter is going to be really really short, I must go and break my case of writers block. I am at a bit of a loss as to what will happen next, so if you enjoy this story, tell me, and if you have a good idea that you dont mind me using, changing or getting inspiration from, share! enjoy.

She felt him stir a little past midnight. Emma herself had been awake, thinking. Things here were getting complicated. Really complicated. She liked the hatter, she might even have feelings for him. The fact remained, he was her captor, a father, possibly a husband, and possibly deranged. their relationship was deepening, and that might not be a good thing.

Her revery was broken by the closing door. She lay there still and silent, then she herd the sobbing.

Emma wasn't quite sure what she was doing. She slipped out of bed and opened the door. She crossed to where Jefferson was sitting. She felt bad, after all, it was partly her fault he was upset. His head rested in his hands. His shoulders were shaking. She rested her hand lightly on him. He didn't move. She sat down next to him. The hat rested on the floor in front of him.

"Jefferson"

He didn't look up.

"Hatter"

Still nothing. Emma paused, uncertain. She steeled herself.

"Tarrant" she whispered

He turned his tear stained face towards her. His eyes were clouded. He looked at her and smiled. Emma felt her heart brake, he wasn't really seeing her. He saw the love of his life, he saw Alice. And who did she see?

The hatter leaned forward. He took her chin in his hand, his fingers tracing her lips. His hand traversed her jaw and slip behind her neck. He pulled her towards him. Emma did not resist. His lips were soft, he ran his hand through her hair. This wasn't love, not really. There was a desperate urgency in the kiss. His tongue counted her teeth. Emma breathed in the pleasant slightly musty smell of velvet. His hands roamed down her shoulders. He was tracing tiny intoxicating circles across her rib cage. Emma's fingers flew to his buttons, sliding her hands inside his shirt.

"Alice" Jefferson pleaded. Emma stopped. What the hell was she doing. She was sitting on the ground, her shirt pulled up, her lips swollen, sitting next to a man who thought she was his wife. Emma pulled back.

"Jefferson, its me, it's Emma"

"Emma?"

Jefferson slowly seemed to be coming to his senses. He looked at her tangled hair, then down at his half undone shirt.

"oh god, Emma. Im sorry, I'm..." he stood, looking dazed, and turned, walking back to his room"

Emma remained sitting on the stairs. She felt her cheeks, they were wet. Was she crying? It's not like she had expected anything, had she? Maybe she was just as broken as him, at least he could admit it.

Jefferson sat on the bed, his head again in his hands. What had he done. Had he kissed Emma or had he kissed Alice. He missed her so much, it felt like there was a hole in his chest that consumed everything around him. If he wasn't careful, Emma might be pulled in as well. He liked Emma, she was, she was great. But she wasn't Alice. No one was Alice. Hell, for all he knew, Alice wasn't Alice any more. He was preserving an ideal, the mother of his daughter, a woman who he might not know anymore. He tried to picture her face, but it was blurred. He could see her dress, in that prefect shade of alice blue. He could remember the feeling of his heart trying to hammer out of his chest.

He lay on top of the covers. He never slept in beds, it was too hard. He would awake in the night, screaming and looking fruitlessly for alice. Beds made the dreams much much worse, in every sense. He closed his eyes. His skin still felt warm from Emma's hands.

Did she, could she love him? He was so beyond repair, maybe she had been using him as much as he had used her.

He woke with a start. Alice had been there but she had been crying. He had tried to comfort her but every time he reached for her, she would get farther way. He stood, trying to shake the dream. He should apologize to Emma. It didn't matter what had happened, what he felt, he needed her. These last few days he had felt, grounded, tethered to reality.

Emma was asleep in the work room. He smiled, it reminded him of grace. Grace would fall asleep at her tea table, cup still clutched in her fingers. Jefferson bent to lift her. He knelt and lifted her up. She clung to him. It was odd seeing her so helpless. He held her to his chest. It was nice, it was better than nice. He looked down at her. He couldn't help it, "Emma" he whispered.

"graham" she smiled

The hatter felt his heart sink. So she had been doing the same thing. She hadn't been kissing him, she head been kissing the erstwhile sheriff. He didn't know quite what to do. He walked slowly to his room. He paused at the thresh hold. It seemed, well wrong to bring a sleeping girl into his room. Then again, the morals behind kissing someone because, for a second they were your wife, we're also questionable. Besides, he had already kidnapped her so his motives were already deeply dubious. The hatter felt an inexplicable sadness welling up. He lowered Emma onto the bed. She still clung to him. Jefferson was confused, he had just kissed her, thinking she was Alice, but now, even knowing she was Emma, seeing her so vulnerable he felt like he was going to cry. He pried her fingers from his shirt, straightening he turned to leave.

"stay"

The hatter paused. He looked back, she was still asleep. He gritted his teeth and headed for the door. She must have been calling out to graham.

"Tarrant"

He paused again, not quite daring to hope that he'd heard it.

"Tarrant"

He crossed to the bed and lay next to her. He reached a hand and tentatively stroked her hair. She rolled onto her side, clutching him like she was drowning. He rubbed her back like she was a child.

The hatter did not remember falling asleep, he didn't remember dreaming at all. Emma lay next to him. She was still asleep, and still clutching his arm. Nothing would have made him happier than gathering her into his arm and drifting back to sleep. But he didn't, he stood and turned walking to the door. There he paused, he didn't turn, he just stood like a statue. Finally he forced himself into the hall. Emma scared him, with her he felt like maybe one day he could be happy. But he didn't deserve to be happy, he didn't deserve anything.

Emma woke slowly, last night had been the best night of sleep shed had since graham. The dream had been good too. It had started poorly, she had been trying to give graham CPR, calling his name, shaking him and crying. She had stat back against her desk and put his head in her lap. She had been crying, her eyes closed, begging him to stay. And then he had sat up, but it wasn't graham, it was the hatter.

Ok, I didn;t want to ruin the surprise of my first kiss. I hope it was ok. It was build from years of detailed litterary research and analysis. No idea if its life like. thank you JK. rowling!


	7. Chapter 7

Jefferson was sitting at the table with a cup of tea when Emma came downstairs. She smiled at him, suddenly feeling shy. Jefferson felt a fluttering in his stomach, then averted his eyes.

"sit down" He motioned to a seat across the table

Emma looked at him. This looked serious. His face was drawn and grim

"Emma, I think it would be best for both of us, if you left."

"You want me to go?" she felt a dull ache beginning somewhere in her chest

"I need you to go"

"But, the hat, grace?"

"That's irrelevant. You have your own life to be getting back too. I made a mistake, this was a mistake" he indicated the empty space between them

"so I can go?"

"now if possible" He still would not meet her eyes

Jefferson's words were coming from a million miles away, draping over her like a cloak of lead. She stood and slowly turned.

"Emma" her heart leapt

"Don't come back. I don't need, I don't want, you here, I'm better alone"

Emma turned And fled, the doors were unlocked ad she ran thought them. She didn't start crying till she was in her car. Jefferson walked slowly upstairs. He sat in form of the telescope. He wanted to watch Emma drive away, to see her one last time. Instead he fiddled with the brocade on the seat cushion. He looked around, his eyes glazing over. The hatter was not alone. The madness was back.


	8. Chapter 8

"authors" note: Well, it might not be worth the wait, but I'm back. Here is installment eight. Please review, just tell me what you think, good or bad. I know I have grammatical and structural errors, so I will try, at some point to rectify them. Enjoy

She was the sheriff, Emma knew that laying in bed was not an option. She had to get up, to go to work. Every time she tried to shake the melancholy, to get ready, she would feel a thick, heavy sadness washing over her. Why was she so upset? She was free, she should be happy. But she wasn't, she felt sick, and cold, and empty. Everything was happening with excruciating slowness her words felt heavy on her tough and her brain felt sluggish and numb.

She couldn't remember the drive back, it was amazing she hadn't crashed. Two days ago she had woken up, back in her bed, with Mary Margaret staring at her.

"emma, where were you?" she had whispered

Emma had done the natural thing, she had lied. It made a sort of sense that the sheriff had business out of town. Her room mate hadn't pressed her. In fact, Mary Margaret hadn't said anything, a blessing.

For emma, Saturday And Sunday had been an eternity. Monday mornings were always hard, but this Monday, felt like she was choking on every breath, Emma looked, on her bed were the clothes she had borrowed, it was the only proof the whole thing was real. Now, she felt as of the hatter could have been some delusion, but then, if she closed her eyes she could feel his hands and his lips and. She had to snap it of it, this wasn't healthy, or helpful. It was all she could do not to go put the clothes back on and crawl into bed.

Finally with Herculean effort she vaulted out of bed and slumped in front of the vanity. "snap out of it swan, he's no one. He was using you" she glared at her reflection. She had yet to tell Mary Margaret what had happened. She wouldn't believe her, after all Jefferson had kidnapped her too. Maybe henry would believe her. The kid thought the town was cursed, so Her falling in love with a mad hatter might not seem so far fetched. She found clothes, or a semblance of clothes. She couldn't bring herself to do much more than that, she grabbed her keys and headed towards grannies.

The warm air and the sound of benign chatter felt good. She had to stop herself from getting a cup of tea. Emma knew that it wouldn't be as good as his, but the thought was tempting. She had to forget, to move on, but against her better judgement, she didn't want to. Henry was already seated perusing the book. She settled into the booth as Red brought over two hot chocolates, each with whipped cream and cinnamon. Henry looked at her expectantly.

"how was the work trip" his look was completely innocent, but it was a loaded question.

"I was with the mad hatter, except he didn't seem very mad," Emma felt too empty to lie. She needed to talk to someone, someone who wouldn't jump to conclusions, who wouldn't judge. True to form, Henry gave her an appraising glance and thumbed thought the book. He looked like a scholar, except for the cream mustache,

"that explains neither your sadness, nor your presents back in storybook" damn,this kid was clever, Emma stirred her coco before answering

"he told me to leave, and I was at his house, that's where I've been since snow, Mary Margaret, left."

"so you miss him?" Henry looked intrigued

"yes, it feels, it feels like someone punched me" she murmered

"interesting"

Emma looked at him quizzically

Henry glanced up at her, then explained

"the accepted story is that the hatter is with Alice, and then alice leaves, it it taken, I'm not really clear on what happens to Alice. The point is, in the story, the hatter is either alone or with Alice."

"and?"

"if the hatter was with you, or wants to be with you then that would be defying the curse, in a way. He would be happy and the narrative of storybrook would change."

"you mean the curse would be broken?"

Henry looked apologetic, "not really. It might act as a catalyst for change"

"what should I do?" emma was embarrassed to be asking for advice, epically of this kind, from her prepubescent son, but henry was right a startling amount of the time.

"you have to save him?"

Now emma was definitely confused.

"save him?"

"yes, you said he didn't seem very mad, that means he's not completely gone yet, you can still change him, change the curse."

Emma was torn, she wasn't ready for someone else, she didn't think. He had told her to leave, told her never to come back. Unfortunately Henry was right, she missed him. With jefferson, she had thought, for the briefest moment, that there was something there, a spark. Was she wrong?

Henry looked at her.

"are you planning in drinking that?" he indicated her coco.

She pushed it across the table.

"go get him, before it's too late. Better to try and fail, then to never try at all."

Emma mulled that over as she drove to the station.

There were twin stacks of paperwork waiting for her and five o'clock came swiftly. She stood and walked out to her car, mind made up. Emma turned the key and pulled out into the light traffic, her mind was made up.


	9. Chapter 9

The blood made the floor slick. It was everywhere. Emma shone the flashlight beam in front of her, illuminating the smashed crockery and ripped fabric. A solitary chair leg rested on the tiled kitchen floor. hesitantly she mounted the stairs. The doors were all open. Then she saw what she had been dreading since she had seen the coagulating puddles. A form was visible just inside the workroom. Emma ran to it.

Jefferson lay in a pool of his own blood. His breathing was shallow and his eyes were closed. She dragged his dead weight up on to the work table. Most of the blood was coming from small cuts on his hands and fore arms, like he had been beating his fists against broken glass.

There were a few rents in his shirt but noting that looked life threatening. But then where was all of the blood coming from? She caressed her face, wishing she had come sooner. His eyes fluttered open, they were a brilliant, mad shade of red.

His hands circled her neck, he was choking her. She tried to call out. To say it was her, it was Emma. Her vision was spotted and fading. She tried to fight back but she was bent over the table, unable to gain leverage. She dug her nails into his skin but he only laughed. The madness had him, and now it had her. She gasped, trying desperately to take a life sustaining breath, but the iron hold of his hands was unforgiving.

Slowly the body of Emma swan went limp. The hatter released her and she slid to the ground. Laying there on the floor she looked pathetically small and helpless. The mad hatter gazed down at her body and began to laugh. he tilted back his head and roared.

Emma sat straight up in bed, soaked with sweat. She had to go, to go now. Oh god, what if he was already gone?


	10. Chapter 10

"author" note: Ok, I could resist anymore, also, I was having trouble writing for Emma alone. To be completely honest, this is partly me living vicariously through fanfiction. So, now I can jefferson's madness become an issue, as it would have too. The other possibility is, what will happen if Emma and Tarrant change the curse? Enjoy, and as always review!

he made hats, a lot of hats. They were scatter about the workroom like some sort of exotic flock. Now he lay listlessly on the bed. This is what his life had been reduced to. Brief periods of activity, followed by hours of complete desolation. He had been trying desperately to avoid the Siren song of the window and the telescope. He had told Emma to go. Him. Now she was gone, and it was for the better. The hatter rolled over, the dark circles around his eyes made his face look more austere. He couldn't sleep, he was plagued with dreams of elusive women with blond hair. He tried to remember what he had been doing before he had lain down. He couldn't. It didn't worry him, nothing could reach the hatta. He had been loosing more and more time. Entire hours disappeared, he would blink and find himself in a different room. It had been disconcerting, but he was almost used to it.

He couldnt remembered falling asleep, but he was back in the dream meadow. Alice was ahead of him, running. He ran to catch her, laughing. The meadow was real, he had taken Alice there. But in the dream, it was different, Alice was running up a hill now. She reached the top and spun, arms raised to the sky, skirt dancing in the wind. She beckoned, he tried desperately to catch a glimpse of her face, but she disappeared over the hill. The hatter ran after her. He caught her around the waste and the tumbled down the hillside, landing in a jumble of arms and legs. He sat up, straddling her. The dreams never went this far, he was never able to touch her, to see her. Breathlessly he moved a hand to gather the blond locks obscuring her face,

"you've been awfully naught" he murmured. He swept back the fair hair, lower his face to kiss her. Emma laughed,

"are you making a citizens arrest?"

The hatter jolted awake. He stormed into the work room. He snatched up a hat at random, spinning it. Nothing happened. He grabbed another, and another, and another. Jefferson sunk to the floor, crying softly. He wasn't sure how long he sat there, surrounded by the garish hats.

He opened his eyes to find himself next to the telescope. Slowly he tilted it towards his eye. Tremulously, he looked. Emma was just visible, seated at her desk, she was tackling an immense stack of paperwork. She looked, normal. Completely and utterly. She looked as if nothing had happened. Maybe for Emma, nothing had happened. Maybe today was, for her, an average. What was today? Was today a day? Frustration enveloped the hatter.

He blinked. The mirror was in front of him. How many times had he dreamed of walking through the same mirror, back to his old life. He wanted his old life, right? That was the whole point. He hit the mirror, it wasn't forceful, but it made him feel better. He slammed into it again, and again. He knuckled were getting bloody as only repetitive hitting can do. Jefferson began throwing himself in the mirror in desperation. He had ruined things here, he had spurned a woman he might be in love with. He had to go back, he had to. The mirror, a hanging on the wall, gave in under the relentless abuse. It fell, crashing and shattering, the hatter fell, for he had been in mid swing. He lay on the ground, crushed glass reflecting bit of him. Blood began to trickle from the cuts, inflicted in apparent retribution but the mirror. He looked at the shattered mirror. He couldn't go back, not now. He wasn't quite sure he wanted to. He staggered up, he had to find emma!


	11. Chapter 11

Emma slipped out of the house, she knew what marry Margaret would say. This was crazy. But Emma couldn't help it, what if this was a chance to be happy, a chance to have something that mattered. She wasn't about to let that go again. The car was slow to start, but eventually it did. Emma realized she wasn't quite sure where Jefferson lived. What If she couldn't find him. What if. She looked out a the darkening woods. Then the car beeped. She looked at the dashboard. She was almost out of gas. Emma wasn't particularly religious, but she began to pray. She realized with a sinking feeling the severity of her situation. She was in the middle of the woods, and her car had just ran out of gas. Emma stumbled out of the car, and gasped at the cold. She looked down, she was wearing her pajamas. This should teach her for buying something as impractical as silk shorts. She started walking, it was the only thing left to do. I the crisp silence, she was left alone with her thoughts. What of he didn't want her, or what if he'd gone back? We're those wolfs? She began walking faster, she stumbled, tripped and got up again. The shadows seemed to close in on her. Then she saw a speck of light, a house. She ran towards it, brambles snatched at her, branches lashed her face, and now she was sure she could hear wolfs. She began to call Jefferson.

Jefferson shivered, he could hear the wolfs. Then he heard something else, something that made his heart stop. Emma. He ran to the door, the out into the woods. He could hear her, faint but there. She had come back.

"Emma"

"Jefferson"

"Emma"

"Jefferson"

Them he heard a scream. He ran faster, praying that he would find her. Something came hurdling out of the dark. Emma barreled into him, almost nocking him over. "Jefferson" she breathed, then fainted. He gathered her into his arms and headed back to the house. She was freezing cold and covered in scratches, blood was dripping into her. Jefferson realized he too was bleeding. His vision narrowed. He felt weak, he swayed. The door was open, and he staggered through, collapsing onto the floor, that went well.


	12. Chapter 12

"author" note: I am trying really really hard to make these chapters longer. I have some Ideas on what will happen next, but I'm not wed to anything yet. This isn't the end of hurdles for Emma and Jefferson. Enjoy, and if you do, review. It makes me bubbly!

Emma lay under the sheets. It felt like a ton of lead was on her chest, in a pleasant, warm way. She rolled over with an unshakable feeling of well being. She felt heavy and sluggish. She tried to remember where she was, why she wasn't in her own small bed.

For the second time to two days, Emma sat bolt upright. Jefferson. she rolled over languidly, extending and arm to the other side of the seemingly endless bed. Unfortunately she realized Jefferson wasn't sharing the immensely comfortable bed. Emma slid out of his bed. The air felt cool on her legs, she looked down and was surprised to see a pair of plaid boxers. She examined her self, her legs were covered in small scratches as we're her palms. she was swamped in a shirt that smelled fantastically of Jefferson, Jefferson. He had rescued her, she tried to ignore the nagging sense of dread, remembering the terrible dream. She scanned the room. Empty.

Panicking she ran into the hall, and almost stumbled. Jefferson lay on the floor, for a second she thought he was placidly asleep. Then she saw the blood. There wasn't much, but looking inside the bedroom she could see another shirt, this one with substantially more. She dragged him to the bed and heaved him up. Slowly, apprehensively, she unbuttoned his shirt. The cuts were alarming in number, by none as severe as she had feared. The worst seemed concentrated around his fists, and there was a large gash on his shoulder, almost like he'd fallen onto broken glass.

Emma slid off the bed to find some gauze. With medical supplies in toe she wrapped a few of the gashes and then slipped back into bed next to him. There was nothing left to do but wait, and resting with her head pillowed on his chest seemed as a good a place as any.

She looked around the room. The bed was old and made of polished maple. Bolts of fabric seemed to take up room, they might have been organized, but if they were it was a system that eluded Emma. The walls were papered in sketches, some of people others of places. A white rabbit capered across a field. A castle rose out of swirling mist. And Alice, there were no pictures of her, but plenty of paintings. Apart from the large on Emma had seen before, there were numerous sketches. Emma felt a twinge of jealousy. It was only fair, she was, after all his wife. Emma thought about that. Was she about to embark on an affaire?

She tried to find something else to look at, she noticed a scrap of paper, pinned above the older ones. A blond woman was bending over a table. She was sewing, or cutting a square of black velvet. Emma realized it was her. To her surprise she felt a huge grin plastered across her face.

"emma?"

"Jefferson, are you ok?"

He smiled, then grimaced rubbing his arm. "shouldn't I be asking you that?"

"I was fine, although, Jefferson, were are my clothes?"

he blushed a deep scarlet, looking away shyly. "well, they seemed to suffer quite a bit of damage, as inflicted by brambles, branches and mud. You were shivering and I didn't know what I should do, but I figured leaving you in wet clothes was a bad idea." "sorry" he finished lamely

"thanks"

"for changing your clothes" he looked confused and was still blushing furiously

"no, for coming to get me"

" I'll always come to get you" he paused, looking away, embarrassed by this forward statement.

" Jefferson,"

He turned to face her again

"jefferson, I,"

He placed a finger across her lips

" I'm so sorry I asked you to leave, I never wanted that. I was afraid of what might happen, I was afraid of, of you"

"me too."

He kissed her forehead, closing his eyes

Emma smiled, "you seem to be getting braver then"

She could feel his chuckle. "Your not the kind if girl I could be timid with"

Emma propped herself up on an elbow, "what does that mean?"

"Emma, you ran through a woods, in the middle of the freezing cold night, in pajama shorts. You're amazing, and dauntless, and I don't think anyone or anything can stop you"

"authors" unprecedented second note: So, I thought about maybe, possible bumping it up to M. But I decided that the characters (who I do not own) and the author are NOT ready, what do you think? Yes this is partly a ploy to get you to review, what can I say, I love feedback.


	13. Chapter 13

Emma woke in the familiar bed. This was the third day of her vacation. Jefferson didn't seem to mind that she was slowly moving in to his house, and borrowing his clothes, even if they weren't particularly flattering.

Frankly, Emma wasn't sure what would happen now. Everything was perfect. She and Jefferson were practicaly living together, which admittedly seemed a bit fast, but then this relationship wasn't going to be conventional.

She had called Mary Margaret and made up a story about a family emergency. It was partly true, now that was scary. Jefferson was becoming a familiar fixture in her life. She was used to waking up next to him. Even though she barley knew him, seeing his smile before she fell asleep seemed the most natural thing in the world.

She loved in the evenings, when he would sit at the piano and she would slip onto the bench next to him. She liked watching his face as much as she liked the music.

Emma gazed out the window. She had been willfully ignoring "the big questions". where was this going? Where did she want it to go? Where did he see it going?

Her revery was broken by a light kiss on her neck. Jefferson was standing behind her. She smiled as he wrapped his arms around her and she tucked her head under his chin.

"I can't quite believe your real" he murmured into her hair.

Emma felt warmth bubbling up in her chest.

"I keep on expecting you to vanish" she could hear the tinge of desperation and anguish. She knew he was afraid he was loosing it, she was too, a bit. He was the mad hatter after all. Emma turned and lopped her arms behind his neck, pulling his face down to hers. His kiss was so tender it broke her heart. He was always surprising her with these small displays of affection.

Leaning back, supported by his arms she grinned.

"so now you have me, what are you going to do with me?"

He chuckled, kissing her on the forehead. "how about picnic?"

"will there be tea?"

He looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "what do you think?" she giggled. Then paused, Emma Swan, seasoned law woman, was giggling. Her brain was not quite sure what to make of it. Was Jefferson turning her soft?

She asked if he needed help with the basket but he told her that he could manage with out her for a moment at least. Emma decided to look around the upstairs. After all, she had only really surveyed the house when she had been trying to escape.

Emma shook her head, there had been a time when she had desperately wanted to leave Jefferson, a time when she might have hated him. she walked slowly to the workroom, surprised at the closed door. It pushed open with a cry of indignation and Emma gasped. She looked at the mirror, broken on the floor. What had happened. Maybe Jefferson had discovered he couldn't go back, and she was just a consolation prize. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. First giggling, now crying! She closed the door, wiped her eyes, and walked downstairs.

She resolved to confront him. Maybe, upon discovering this was the only world available to him, he had decided to choose a meaningless fling over solitude. If Emma had been thinking, the absence of the fling part would have negated that line of reasoning.

Before she could say anything, Jefferson grabbed her hand and whisked her out the door. He looked so happy to be outside that she forgot about the broken mirror.

They ran away from storybrook, through the woods. The tall trees had seemed so forbidding just a few days ago, now with Jefferson they were bright and verdant. She let go of his hand and ran ahead, laughing. Jefferson felt an iron hand grip his heart. He bolted after Emma, icy terror nipping at his heels.

Emma burst through the tree cover and into a natural corridor. The old pines had been planted close together, leaving a rectangle of space in the middle. The floor was blanketed with needles and muffled all noise. Emma craned her neck looking at the majestic columns.

Jefferson smiled looking at her. She was so different when she thought no one was looking at her. Her face relaxed and she looked less severe. Jefferson tried to make this image stick in his mind, he wanted to remember her like this forever. What would happen when they went back to storybrook? Would they? How far was this going? Jefferson wrenched his mind back to the present and tried to stay in the moment. For all that he knew, the moment might be all that he had.

Jefferson set out a proper british tea, scones, clotted cream and of coarse the requisite tea. They talked about fairy tales and happy endings.

Emma swiped a finger through the clotted cream and dotted it on his nose. He was taken aback at this gesture. Emma tended towards the more serious and reserved.

He impulsively leaned forward and kissed her, smearing her with clotted cream.

"brat" she pushed him back, and he fell, bringing her with him

"you're going to pay for that" emma was startled by the severity of his voice, but then he rolled on top of her, propping himself up and pinning her. She could see the mirth dancing behind his eyes.

He lowered his face to hers and their lips met. He pressed against her, deepening the kiss. Emma ran her hand up his side and under his shirt, he moaned. He cupped her head, lifting it up for an optimum kissing angle. The silence and the moment had emboldened Emma.

The two were to busy to see the flash of a camera from behind a copse of trees. Sidney smiled Now this was a story!

(I realize that the camera was a bit vague, the camera is under the control of Sidney Glass, journalist and general servant to she-who-shall-not-be-named) {hope this clears things up}


	14. Chapter 14

"author" note: from here on out the action may beging picking up. I have some ideas I may run with. I also wanted to let you know, when you review, you make my day. I have this stupid smile on my face for hours. looking like a prat is a small price to pay for your feedback.

I do not own once upon a time, or any of its characters, because face it, if I owned Jefferson literally nothing would get done. Ok maybe one "thing" would...if you catch my drift ;)

She could feel a her neck prickling. It wasn't the metaphorical feeling of premonition, but a literal tickle. Emma reached up and pulled pine needles from her hair. She probably looked frightful. The picnic had been rather forgotten in favor of rolling around and frolicking like teenagers. She was blaming it on a combination of the soft dapple light intruding though the lattice of branches, and the incredible warmth produced by Jefferson.

She turned to look at Jefferson, he had a massive, Cheshire like smile plastered on his face. Emma grinned, his hair had been pushed into a messy halo around his head. The normally restrained curls had spring out and seemed to be be taking a life of their own. His vest was unbuttoned, the hanging askew from one shoulder like a rakish cape. His shirt was untucked, and wrinkled.

"enjoying the view?"

She glared at him,

"I was just thinking, you look like a marauding vagabond"

"such cheek! Well, unaccompanied maidens like your self, need to be careful."

He advanced, planting his feet and bracing his arms on the tree behind her, effectively trapping her.

"why is that" she raised an eyebrow

"I might capture you and ravage you"

He would have actually looked menacing, except for his dancing eyes.

"ravage me?" she asked cynicism obvious in every syllable.

"yes, I may seem to be a mild mannered gentleman, but I will not hesitate, especially when you look so attractive" he pulled more pine needles from her hair, letting his hand trace the line of her cheek and jaw,

"i think youve rather had your chance to ravage me. After all, you kidnapped me!"

"I've appoligized" me muttered, looking decidedly guilty. He was still rather touchy about it. She knew he was guilty and a little scared about what he had done. She had forgiven him, he apparently had not done the same.

She leaned forward, and kissed him, surprised out of his revery, he stepped back. Emma stepped forward and entwined her fingers in his crazed hair. The glad was behind them, although they were still ensconsed in the cool shade of the forest. The trees here were old, and wise. Jefferson seemed to derive strength from them.

"I was going to add, that it was the best thing that happened to me"

"what?" his eyebrows disappeared into his floppy mop of hair.

"I'm glad you kidnapped me"

"me too, but I thought, well, I assumed you would hold it against me."

They had yet to talk about it. She knew that confronting his madness made him deeply uncomfortable, and she avoided it.

"well, most girls can't say their boyfriend committed an actual crime just to meet them," she grinned. She enjoyed teasing him, it was this light banter that was able to rouse him from his occasional moods. Frankly, a lot about this scared her. Jefferson's baggage could prove simply too much, although she wasn't exactly without fault in that department. There was a strong unspoken understanding that she was never to mention Alice, as he was never to mention Graham.

Lost in her own thoughts she had missed the series of expressions her comment had elicited. Surprise, fear, anger, guilt, love and sadness had all made at least one appearance.

Jefferson pulled back, starring down at her. He turned and walked away. He rubbed his face and pinched on the bridge of his nose.

"Jefferson?" she whispered.

"look, just go back to the house"

"what?" she was hurt, it was happening again

"look, just, I need you to go back to the house."

"please" his voice broke. Emma turned and ran. The saplings impeded her progress, she tripped over a mossy log, falling flat on her face. She leapt up and kept running. She was holding back a choking sob, she was falling apart.

She pushed thought the brambles and to the double doors. She leaned against the door frame and tried to pull together her composure, to stop the ridiculous sobs, to focus. She moved for the kettle, wanting the familiar warmth of one of his teas. She sat in the kitchen and tried to rewind the conversation. What had she said? She sipped the tea and gazed out the window. What if he didn't come back. This was it. She had to bounce back. Emma knew she was getting in too deep, soon she would being to rely on him. She already knew how much she would miss his smile and the faint smell of must, the crisp of linen and the pervasive smell of chamomile. She hadn't been able to place it before, and it was incredibly faint, but it was there.

Jefferson sank down on a stump. The trees cast their long shadows, and rustled their branches. He tried to block out thought, to exist only in the instant with the dull roar of the forrest. Boyfriend. That meant she was his girlfriend. That meant the his old life was done, emma was offering him a chance to move on. He knew his actions had been extreme but he couldn't help it. God, he rested his head in his hands. Why was he being so weird about this. Emma hadn't asked him to marry her, she hadn't said she loved him, she hadn't really said much of anything. God Jefferson, you like her, stop over thinking it. What if tugged at the back of his mind. What if he really liked Emma, what if he more than like Emma.

He stood abruptly, this line of thinking wasn't good for anyone. They weren't in love, they hadn't slept together, they were just a couple. In this world, he was single, might as well live it up. He tried to gather his thoughts on the way back to the house. Unbidden a nasty thought crossed his mind, what if she had left. This last bid of oddness might have just been too much. He forgot how fragile she could be.

The entrance was dark, he pushed the door just enough to slip in. Emma was curled by the door, fast asleep. She had been crying. He felt like an ass. God, he needed to stop waiting second chances. He knelt down and picked her up, she stirred, and opened her eyes a fraction. He looked down at her face, then, unable to meet her eyes looked away. She noticed his inability to look at her. He took the stairs very slowly, not wanting to jostle her.

"Jefferson?"

"sorry"

She opened her eyes fully

" what? Why, I was going to apologize" She look peevish. As if his apology had some how ruined her grand scheme.

" look, it wasn't anything you said, I was just thinking too much"

"try not to do it again, please" she was rewarded with a rye smile

They didn't speak again till much later. Emma lay awake staring the ceiling.

"Jefferson" she ventured

"hmm"

"are you awake"

He propped himself on an elbow, looking down at her,

"I think you should stay with me, during the week, I do have responsibilities. Not that you dont" she hastily added

"we could cone here for the weekend" she sounded so tentative, he knew she was still thinking about his little lapse with reality.

"yes."

"oh, great!" he could see her smiling in the dark.

Some time later Jefferson grabbed her hand.

"Emma,"

"hmm"

"stop that"

"what" she was definitely grinning now

"that, please, I need sleep, I have to renter society tomorrow"

She laughed, and grudgingly compiled, fitting her back against him, and allowing him to drape and arm around her. She inhaled, lulled to sleep by his rhythmic breathing and the faint aroma of chamomile.


End file.
